


Stuck

by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (This is a real tag btw), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating, Elevator Sex, Elevatorstuck, Engineers, F/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Post-Break Up, Second Chances, Trapped, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 00:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/pseuds/Ever-so-reylo
Summary: In which they are stuck together in an elevator, and they have History.





	Stuck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daisyflo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyflo/gifts).



> For Reylolujah, the Swan to my Elizabeth. Happy birthday from me and from reylo-convert (who trudged through 6k words of me constantly misspelling 'Rey'). You're the funniest, kindest, and bestest LG ever. We love you very much and hope you never change ♡♡♡  
> (PS: It's important to me that you know that I was _this_ close to calling this garbage fic 'l'amour dans un ascenseur').

 

Rey’s world comes to an end at 10:43 on a Friday night, when the lift stops with a lurch somewhere between the 18th and the 17th floor. The ceiling lights flicker for a moment, go off completely, and then, after a stretch that lasts probably five seconds but feels like several decades, come back on—except with the different, slightly yellower tinge of the emergency light bulb.

To be fair, this is the second time Rey’s world has come to an end tonight. The first was just a few seconds earlier, when the lift she is currently riding stopped on the 27th floor, and the last person Rey wanted to see walked inside. When the car had begun to slow down around the 29th floor, Rey had felt a surge of apprehension—which she’d naively discarded as mere paranoia. Just her usual anxiety flaring up, when in truth there was probably nothing to worry about: the entire 27th floor is made up of Snoke’s company, after all. The 23rd throughout the 26th as well, and rumor has it that they’re planning to expand upwards, too. Really, it could have been anyone of hundreds of people calling the elevator. _Anyone_.

Yeah. No.

“I think the power’s out,” Ben says, a stupidly obvious statement with that stupidly deep voice of his. It hasn’t changed one whit since the last time they talked—nor since that string of messages that he left on her phone and that Rey never bothered answering. But could not stop herself from listening to.

It’s still a stupid voice, stupid and insidious, rich and precise and clipped and with acoustic properties all of its own. After the time they’d spent together, after what _happened_ , Rey had felt as if she couldn’t get it out of head, constantly squirming and turning around because she thought she’d heard him speak somewhere in her proximity. Thought that maybe he was nearby. It had stuck to her, coated the shell of her ears and the inside of her—    

“Rey? Does it?” Ben asks, with the tone of someone who is repeating himself, and maybe not just for the second time.

Rey looks up at him and… it’s a mistake. _He_ was a mistake. “Um… What?”

“Does your phone work?” he asks again, patiently.

_Why is he so patient?_ She’d heard the stories about him, even before knowing his name. He’s supposed to be aggressive and bad-tempered. The apotheosis of irritability. “Um.” Rey digs into her pocket for her cell phone, and then presses the home button. “No. No service. But this is a Faraday cage, and the elevator shaft is steel, no RF signal is going to be able to make a loop and…” Rey’s voice trails off as she notices the way Ben is staring at her and abruptly remembers that, _right._ He is an engineer, too. And a good one. Despite the fact that he has opted to turn his back to a family legacy of sustainable engineering and to dedicate his life to building refineries, pipelines, and offshore oil platforms with the worst of them.

Rey clears her throat. “No signal, no.”

Ben nods. “Wi-fi should work, but it doesn’t. So maybe this is—”

“—a building-wide power outage. Maybe even the whole block.” _Shit._

_Shit, shit, shit. Shit._

Ben seems to read her mind, because he studies her for a moment and says: “It actually might be for the best. Because this means that someone will check the elevators if the power’s gone for more than a few minutes.” He hesitates before adding, “The problem is that it might take a while.”

“How long?”

He shrugs. “A few hours? But hopefully less than that.”

A few— _what_? A few _hours_? In an elevator that is smaller than her already-minuscule closet? With—with— _with_ …

“So—what do we do now?” she asks, hating how whiny her voice sounds.

Ben lets his briefcase fall to floor with a thump, and leans against the wall opposite Rey. For some physics-defying reason, he still feels _too close_. “Now—” He crosses his arms on his chest. His eyes are mostly opaque, but there is a faint glint in them that has a shiver run down her spine. “Now, we wait.”

For the third time in less than ten minutes, Rey’s world comes to an end.

 

…

 

_“Good morning.” She smiles at Lando, and digs into her pockets for the five dollar bill she stuffed there before running for the subway. “A coffee. And a blueberry muffin, please. With lemon glaze.”_

_Lando grimaces. “Ach—sorry, Rey, I’m making a fresh batch of coffee, so it will be ten minutes. And I just sold the last muffin.”_

_It’s not polite, and not nice, but it’s 7:46 am, and Rey has slept maybe four hours, and she has a meeting at 8:15, a meeting for which she will have to review her notes—which she won’t be able to do, because she currently has zero milligrams of caffeine circulating in her blood. It’s not polite, and not nice, but Rey feels herself frown and there is nothing she can do about it._

_“Hey,” Lando laughs, but he raises his hands defensively. “Blame Ben over there. He bought the last muffin and the last cup of coffee.”_

_Rey whirls around to look at Ben-over-there, a ten foot tall guy with jet black hair and a face that is an odd mix of softness and angles, who’s wearing a suit that probably costs more than Rey’s mortgage payment (her_ yearly _mortgage payment), and who at the moment has the gall to be_ chewing _._

_She hates him. She hates him so much. He stole her coffee and robbed her of her muffin_ and _he ruined her day and probably her life and now he is--_

_Flushing lightly? And splitting the muffin in two halves? And putting one half—the_ bigger _half—on a napkin? And holding it out to her?_

_“Here,” he says with the most delicious voice she has ever heard. “Would you like half of it?”_

_Something warm blooms within Rey’s chest._

 

…

 

“What do you mean, we wait?” she asks weakly. “Just—do nothing and wait?”

He simply nods, like the idea doesn’t bother him one bit. It’s all Rey can do not to bury her face in her hands in panic.

“What if we scream?”

“If we scream?”

“Yes—what if we scream. This is a giant building, someone is bound to hear us.”

“At 10:47 on a Friday night?” He lifts an eyebrow. “While the elevator is stuck between floors? _This_ elevator?”

He is right. Punchably so. Because the lift they’re on is in the deepest part of the building, next to a hallway no one would think of walking by at night. Which is a tragedy overshadowed only by the fact that this cursed lift is also the narrowest Rey has ever seen. It’s not one guests and clients ever use, which is why it usually has the advantage of being quicker—and the disadvantage of being minuscule.

Really minuscule. Rey had always known that it was smaller than the regular lifts, but it only really registered a few minutes ago, when Ben stepped in and suddenly it had been next to impossible for Rey not to look at him. For his arm not to brush against her shoulder. Then again, Ben is built like a brick wall. Rey knows that from experience, because they—

 “Are you okay?” he asks. This time his voice is soft, and his eyes are soft, too, and instantly there is something knotting in her chest. “Here,” he squats down by his bag. “Have some water.”

She doesn’t know why she accepts his ‘2015 Boston Marathon - Runner’ water bottle. She doesn’t know why as she drinks small sips he studies her with something that resembles concern.

“Yep.”

“You look really pale. Are you claustrophobic?” Rey hates it, how worried he sounds.

“No. I… no.” _Or maybe I am. Because this place is so small and I’m here with you and you’re so big, you take up three quarters of it and I can smell your soap and I really wanted to forget all of it but instead it’s reminding me of…_ yeah. “I’m fine.”

Ben looks at her, and nods.

 

…

 

_“You’re lying.”_

_“Nope.”_

_“No way.”_

_“Way.”_

_“I don’t believe you.” It’s simply not possible, that anyone in the entire universe sells pastries that are better than Lando’s. It’s just—not a thing._

_“You should.”_

_It’s 8:06. Rey should really be heading upstairs to review her notes. Since this meeting is about to start in—yep, ten minutes. Which means that if she leaves now she’ll barely make it there in time. She might even be late. Poe and Leia are relaxed and understanding, but they’re still her bosses. She really should not push it._

_Except that Ben is standing right there, smiling down at her in a way that is sweet and tentative and makes her wonder if smiling is something he doesn’t do a whole lot. Telling her stories about this breakfast place he’s once been to, which apparently serves phantasmagorical food._

_There is a microscopic crumb on the lapel of his jacket. Rey does the unthinkable and brushes it off with her right hand, and his lips part ever so slightly._

_“You know,” he rocks on his heels, once. “That place. It also serves dinner, I think.”_

Oh. _“Does it?”_

_He nods. “Yeah. Yeah. Do you maybe…”_

_Rey feels herself smile._

 

…

 

“How have you been?”

Ben’s voice startles her. It sounds… loud—not because it is loud, but because it’s _there_ , a mess of vibrations that seems to diffuse through the small space of the lift. Through _her_. They’ve spent the ten minutes since she returned Ben’s water in deep silence—Ben leaning back against the lift tapping quickly at his phone, and Rey slumped on the floor with her chin resting on her knees, trying to forget about this whole nightmare of a situation and retreat into her happy place. Which would be her apartment, ideally with Beebee in her lap and whatever sport she can find on the telly.

Beebee, who no doubt is currently meowing his little heart out because he hasn’t been fed in well over twelve hours. Rey is a horrible cat mother. With the worst timing. And truly, she has abysmal taste in men. In _this_ man.

“Fine. I’ve been… fine.” She clears her throat. “You?”

He nods. And then, maybe because it’s clear that another silence is about to fall between them, he adds: “Busy.”

_At work_ , Rey bets he meant. _Busy at work_. She feels something inside her harden.

 

…

 

_It’s the end of the summer—which means that it shouldn’t be cold at all. But it’s also way past eleven—the restaurant ended up kicking them out long after Ben had insisted on paying the bill (“Since I stole your muffin this morning. I’m just looking for some redemption here.”)—and a light breeze has risen, and Rey is wearing a dress with half-sleeves. Whether she is shivering because of the cold or because of the way Ben is looking at her, it’s next to impossible to tell._

_“… because I actually think Neuer is a better goalkeeper than he’s made out to be and—is this your place?” he asks mid-sentence when Rey stops in front her apartment complex. She nods and he looks up, at the slightly run-down facade of the building, and the American flag one of her neighbors always has hanging from his windowsill, and the ivy climbing the left corner of the structure._

_“Oh,” he just says, sounding a touch disappointed. Like he’s not happy that it’s the end of the night, like he finds Rey worth spending time with, like he maybe wanted to talk about that Italy 2-1 Germany game a little longer, now that he’s found someone who likes football just as much as he does._

_“Up there—third floor?” Rey hastens to tell him before he tells her good night and leaves. She has so many opinions about Euro 2012. Truly, Italy should not have been in the final. “That’s my window. My cat.”_

_“The orange one?”_

_“Yep.”_

_He smiles a little, looking impossibly more handsome. Rey has been having trouble breathing since they met at the restaurant, some five hours earlier. “He looks…”_

_“Fat?”_

_He chuckles. “Nice. Like a nice cat.”_

_“He is. Very nice. Friendly.” She doesn’t let herself think before blurting out. “Would you like to come up and meet him?”_

_He stares at his shoes for a long time, before looking up at her and nodding._

 

…

 

“Congratulations on the Hosnian bid,” she says, staring at her knees instead of looking up at him. Why he won’t sit on the floor, she has no clue. Does he plan to remain standing? For hours? Though maybe it’s because he’s so _big_ that no matter how he sits, his legs will end up brushing against hers. Which is… not for the best. The two of them, touching. “I heard you guys got it. Resistance only came in fourth, I think.”

A pause. He is so—so … so _present_ in here, that Rey is desperate not look at him. To cut him off from at least one of her senses. But his shoes are in her field of view nonetheless, and she—

She hates this. Or maybe she doesn’t. She’s confused. “Rey.”

“And someone said that you’re head engineer on that project. So… yeah. Good for you. Snoke must be happy.”

“Rey.”

“ _You_ must be so happy.” She mostly thought the words would sound bitter, or maybe childish and petulant, and she was A-okay with it. Instead they come out sad and vulnerable, and Rey just closes her eyes and leans her forehead against her knees.

“Actually.” Ben says after a long pause. “I’ve been happier.”

 

…

 

_“You have to—please, Rey. You have to—” He stops to gasp hotly in her mouth, because apparently that’s more important than what he was about to say. “You have to give me a minute to adjust, because otherwise I’m going to—”_

_On her knees, Rey circles her hips twice and manages to work him a little bit deeper. It’s probably a fraction of an inch, but the friction, the sense of fullness—they’re enough to make her eyes roll back in her head and a desperate sound come out of her throat. She didn’t know, that anything could be so_ far _inside her, and yet feel so_ good _. Couldn’t have imagined._

_“Oh. Oh. Oh, shit.” Ben sounds just as astonished. His hands are gripping her hips too tight, trembling faintly around her flesh. “Fuck, Rey, I’m about to—”_

_Rey silences him with a kiss._

 

…

 

“Have you been following the World Series?” she asks, more to fill the almost non-existent space between them than because she cares to hear the answer. There is a loose thread on the hem of her skirt, that Rey noticed last week but forgot to cut off before doing laundry. She’s happy to have something to fidget with, now. She’s pretty fucking grateful, truth be told. “I told you the Red Sox would make it.”

Ben sighs, heavily enough that she can hear him from down here. “I have. Been watching the games.”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“Rey.”

“Do you remember?” She pulls on the thread a little too forcefully, and it almost comes loose. “While we were having dessert? You didn’t believe it.”

“I do remember.” There is something in his voice, half resigned and more than a little impatient. Or maybe Rey’s just imagining it. She could look at him to verify, but why would she? It sounds like a bad idea. “Rey, can we… It’s been months. Can we talk for a moment?”

 

…

 

_Something warm and soft is making its way up her spine. By the time it reaches her nape she is mostly awake—even though she’s feeling exhausted, and achy, and utterly, perfectly_ used _._

_“Hey.”_

_Ben’s voice. It was Ben’s lips, tracing her vertebrae. His teeth, nipping slightly on her shoulder-blades. “I have to go home. Get a change of clothes for tomorrow.”_

_“No.” Rey turns around and wraps her hands around his neck, pulling him back into bed with her. She can feel it in his grip, tight on the back of her head, in the way he buries his face in her neck, how close he is to_ staying _. And yet: “Can I—can I take you out again? Tomorrow night? Or for lunch? Or—whenever, really? Just tell me when you’re free and I’ll make time, my work’s pretty flexible, and if not I can just—”_

_Rey pulls back and kisses him on the mouth, short and sleepy and biting._

_“Yes.”_

_She can feel his lips curve. “Yes?”_

_“Yes, yes, yes.” She smiles at him,_ into _him. “Yes.”_

 

…

 

“We are already talking.”

“Are we?”

“Yep. I’m saying stuff. And you’re answering me. So.”

“Okay. Okay, I…” There is some rustling coming from the corner in which he is standing, and Rey is proud of herself for not looking up to see what Ben is doing. Except that maybe it would have been for the best. It would at least have prepared her for the moment he comes to squat in front of her, knees brushing her legs, eyes dark and serious. He looks thinner. He looks like maybe he hasn’t had the best of sleeps, in the past few weeks. His hair is shorter than it used to be, but not so much. It’s still black, still covers his ears—still pretty much the same hair she pulled at while he—

“I’m not—” He swallows heavily. “I know this is probably a nightmare for you.”

“I would be a nightmare for anyone, being stuck in a—”

“Being here with me.”

“I… It’s fine,” she says automatically. “I don’t care—”

“And we don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. We can pretend that we never… But it’s been months, and this has been… bothering me, so please—”

“I don’t think—”

“—please, just tell me. Was it the sex?”

 

_…_

 

_“So, you know Ben Solo?”_

_Rey looks up from trying to fix the paper jam in the copy machine and smiles at Kaydel, who is making a show of checking her mailbox._

_“Oh?”_

_“Ben Solo? I saw you guys chatting on the sidewalk yesterday morning?”_

_There is something a little off in Kay’s tone, Rey thinks. She’s not positive. But it sounds like it. “Yeah. I… Why? Do you know him?”_

_“Yep. I was already here when he left. Saw the whole mess with Leia.”_

_She balls up the offending paper and throws it in the recycling bin, restarting the copy machine. And then what Kay just said fully registers. “When he left?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“Left… what?”_

_Kay looks at Rey like she’s being slow. “Left Resistance? The company you’re working for? Rey, are you experiencing some kind cerebral event, because—”_

_“Wait—Ben used to work for Resistance?”_

_“Rey, are you… Do you know him? You guys seemed friendly yesterday, so I thought you knew?”_

_The copy machine beeps three times, and then three more. Apparently, Rey fixed nothing. “Knew—Knew what?”_

_Kay shrugs. “That he is... well. Leia’s son? The prodigy? The one who left the company to go work for Snoke and caused lots and lots of troubles for Resistance?”_

_“I…”_

_“Anyway. I just wanted to make sure. That he’s not, you know? Using you. To get information on us now that we’re doing better, or just to get back at Leia. Since he’s that kind of asshole.”_

_The copy machine beeps again, and Rey’s stomach plummets._

 

…

 

She didn’t expect _that_. She wasn’t sure _what_ she expected, but definitely not _that_.

“W—what?”

“Was it—” Ben takes a deep breath, running a hand down his face. Rey stares at him, mouth agape. “Did I force you into anything? Because I didn’t think I was. I thought you were maybe… enjoying yourself—”

“ _What_?”

“—but I—the truth is that I have next to no idea of how sex even works, and—”

“What are you—”

“—it didn’t occur to me until later that maybe I should have held back. Maybe you hated it, how much I was on you. Maybe I shouldn’t have fucked you five times, and I—”

“I—”

“—and I have been wondering if that whole night was non-consensual to begin with, because in that case you really should—”

“ _No!_ ”

Rey’s response it entirely too loud, bouncing off the walls of the lift and making her flinch, but at least it has the effect of shutting Ben up, who stops with that harebrained monologue of his and closes his eyes for a few seconds, his throat bobbing as he seems to try to collect himself.  

“No,” she repeats, this time more calmly. “I… Are you crazy? Did you really think that you… That we…”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I—” Ben’s hands flex, and then tighten over his knees. “It seemed like everything was… And then you wouldn’t talk to me anymore, and I—”

“No. No, it wasn’t _that_.”

 He nods, though it seems to take some effort. “Okay. Okay, I—”

“Though it would have been nice,” Rey mutters, looking to the side to avoid his eyes, “if you had told me who you were.”

 

…

 

_You have_ one _message: “Hey. I… don’t want to be like that, and—I don’t want to make you feel uneasy, so I won’t keep calling you. And I am sure you have your reasons for not answering my calls. But if it’s something I’ve said or done that you think I’d be able to fix, I really would want to… yeah. Yeah. Well. I hope you have a good day, Rey.”_

 

…

 

She regrets blurting it out as soon as she sees his frown.

“Who I am?”

She waves her hand. “Forget it. I—I just want you to know that everything was consensual and you didn’t force me into anything and—”

She waves her hand again, to signal how _over_ this conversation she is, and—

He closes his hand around her wrist. His skin is warm and firm and a little rough with callouses, and Rey—Rey really wish he _didn’t_ , because he’s already so close, almost as close as he—

“I told you who I was,” he tells her. “I told you who I was a second after we met. I—”

“You told me your _name_. You didn’t tell me _who_ you were.”

“Who _I_ —Rey, what are you talking about?”

“When I told you I worked for Resistance, you didn’t say that you...”

His eyes narrow and he leans closer. “That I?”

 

…

 

_“He just… lied.”_

_“Hang on.” Finn sticks a straw into his iced coffee. “What name did he give you?”_

_“What do you mean, what name?”_

_“You said he lied. What did he say his name was?”_

_“No—he did say that his name was Ben Solo.”_

_“Oh.” Finn makes a face that Rey definitely does_ not _like as he sips from his drink. “So, he didn’t say that he worked for Snoke?”_

_“He—no, he did say that he worked for Snoke. But he didn’t say that he was Leia’s son. Or that he had worked with Resistance in the past. Or how high up in the firm he was.”_

_Why is Finn grimacing? “Rey. Rey. The real question is—how did_ you _not know?”_

_“What? How is_ that _the real question?”_

_“Rey—how many Solos do you think there are in world? In this city? In engineering? And how didn’t you know his name?—it’s on a third of the blueprints hanging in the hallway.”_

_“I—I don’t read the blueprints, why would I—”_

_“_ Everyone _knows. He’s like… famous.”_

_“He’s not. I… I didn’t know him. He… He basically catfished me, and I think I know why.”_

_Finn lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, Peanut. I really don’t think this qualifies.”_

_Rey ignores him and takes a bite of her cinnamon bun._

 

_…_

 

She wrestles her wrist free of his grasp—it doesn’t take much, which is probably something for her to think about later—and shoots to her feet, backing into a corner and trying to get as far away from him as possible. Of course, that’s not far at all. Just about a foot away— _not enough, never enough_ —with the added bonus that he immediately stands, too—and he’s between Rey and the only source of light, now. The result is that his hair is haloed, and there are stark shadows on the long lines of his face, making him look taller and larger and impossibly… good.

 It’s not that Rey is intimidated by him— _though she should be, maybe she should_ —but he is looking at her like _that_ , like he did right before they… and he _just_ touched her, which reminded of the way he… they way they…

_No._

“You know I had no idea you were Leia’s son.”

“What?”

“You knew that I couldn’t possibly know, and—”

“No.” He shakes his head, and the way he moves—it’s like he’s filling the minuscule space of the lift. “No, I was _sure_ you knew who I was. When you said—you were the one who said you didn’t want to talk about work when I mentioned First Order. Because we work for competing firms. And you—”

“But I didn’t know you were _him_!”

“Him?”

“Leia’s son.”

“How does this—why is it even important?”

“Because my boss is your _mother_ , and you used to work for her, and you left the company for… for… for…”

He is looking at her like she is completely out of her mind, when—he is the one—he is the one who—“For what, Rey?”

“You—come on. You and Snoke—You guys are doing the most environmentally irresponsible projects that I—”

“You knew I was working for Snoke. You knew the projects I work on, and you still invited me up to your—”

“But I didn’t know that you… that you… that you broke your parents’ heart when you jumped ship, and that Resistance almost failed, and that you’re the reason why we always feel like we’re in dire straits and—and when…when we met you seemed so…. So nice, and you were the only American person I’ve ever talked with who even begins to _understand_ what offside is and how underrated a team Galatasaray is, and then you—you—” She doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because whatever word she was going to say is swallowed by a huge, loud, _wet_ sob.

Ben immediately comes closer. “Are you—are you crying?”

“No!” Rey bites back another sob—drying her cheeks with her palms. “ _No_ , I’m—”

“Oh, shit. Rey—”

“I’m not—I’m not crying. It’s… it’s _allergies_ , I can’t—leave me alone, I—”

“Rey, come here.”

“No.” She sniffles. “I…”

With a large sigh, Ben pulls her into his body, and she—she really shouldn’t, but she just _goes_. It’s been… it’s been two months and twenty-three days and ten hours since they last hugged and Rey just gives up and buries her face into his chest. This is… _humiliating_. And bliss.

“I’m sorry.” His arms are warm and solid around her as he speaks in the crown of her hair. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you knew. I was certain you knew.”

She shakes her head into his shirt. “I felt so _stupid_ , and—did you just ask me out to get back at Leia?”

“No, Rey.”

“Because it’s the meanest, saddest—”

“Sssh.” She feels his breath, warm against her temple, and just—melts into him, crying into clothes that probably cost more than her diabetic cat’s vet bills. He smooths her hair with his huge hand, and for a moment if feels like this stupid lift might not be too small for them. Maybe—maybe it’s just perfect.

How long they stay like that, she has no idea. It could be three or fifteen minutes later, when he says:

“Does it matter so much?”

Rey sniffles, and pulls back a little. This is mortifying. The crying, the way she can’t help clinging to him. The red splotches that must have taken residence on her cheeks. “Does what matter?”

Ben swallows, looking down at her. “What if I told you—What if I told you that there are two sides to what happened with Resistance. When I quit. What if I told you that Skywalker was involved too—”

“Luke?”

“Yes. And that he played a big role in me leaving.” His jaw is working. “And maybe I didn’t make the best decision, but neither did he and Leia.”

Rey frowns. “There are—No one ever said anything about Luke being involved.”

“Because I didn’t tell anyone. Because they’re my family, and even just thinking about it—it wasn’t worth it, because I don’t care what Dameron or Connix or anyone else thinks of me. But you…” He exhales slowly. “Not you.”

Rey can feel her heart beat faster and shakes her head—mostly to clear her thoughts.

“I will tell you. If you want to hear.”

“I…”

“Because when we met, I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “You were looking at me like you wanted to murder me over a… a _danish_ , and I felt my fucking life change, and then you ignored me for three months and I—”

She doesn’t make the conscious decision to kiss him. It just—it happens, that he’s telling her things, and then he’s not anymore. Then he’s holding her head in his palm and pressing her lower back into himself and he’s just groaning, bending down to push her into the wall and lick the inside of her mouth.

When she needs to breath again, Rey pulls back. “A muffin.”

He follows her mouth for another kiss, one just as deep, and then suddenly stops himself. “What?”

“It was a muffin.” Rey closes his eyes and bites into his bottom lip. It’s soft and plump, and she remembers it all too well, how it felt between her legs. How Ben had used it to make her come over and over until she couldn’t comprehend it, where all of that patience came from. Until she’d noticed the way he was closing his fist on himself. “It was a muffin that you—”

She feels the cold on her lips as soon as he draws back to look down at her.

“Is this—” He is not breathing normally, and has to take a moment to get himself under control. “Are you going to ignore me again the second we get out of here? Because as phenomenal as fucking you was, I don’t think I want to—”

“No. I…” She reaches up to his face, bringing his mouth down to hers again. Kissing him gently. “No. No, I won’t.”

“Promise?” He asks against her lips.

Rey nods. And then, because it seems important: “I promise.”

It’s like flipping a switch. One moment he’s looking at her questioningly, and the next his hand is sliding under skirt, his fingertips brushing under the elastic of her cotton underwear. The lift is too small for them to do anything but stand, but when his knuckles brush the damp cloth of her panties, it’s all Rey can do not to spread her legs as far they can go.

“Your cunt,” he breathes in her mouth, “is my happy place.”

Rey moans, a mewling sound that cannot possible come from her mouth.

“It’s so small, and tight like a glove, and it gets so wet, and I couldn’t—I _should_ have, but I couldn’t stop myself, that night…” Without forewarning, he picks her up and sets her on the hand rail, grunting when she wraps her legs around his waist. Rey feels her body go pliant and willing. There is a heat, growing inside her, and it drives her to work frenziedly between their bodies, to open his slacks and briefs. His cock springs out, straining and leaking and so hard, it has got to hurt.

“You are—You were good. You are really good at sex, Ben,” she tells him, because it’s obvious that he has no idea. She wraps her fingers around him, and he groans, a soft, guttural sound.

“I am?” He bites her on the flesh between her neck and her shoulder—not enough to break her skin, but to make her feel it. That he is not fully there. Not in control. Rey remembers this about him from the other time—the bruises he painted on her body as he kept her still for his thrusts, because even after coming inside her four times he still couldn’t muster enough control. She’d felt powerful and powerless at the same time. A mess, this man—making a mess of her, too. “Because I can’t think of anything else. Because I mostly feel like I’m going to blow it the second you—”

“Ben.” _Pump._ “You have been…” _Pump._ “...so good…” _Pump._ “…to me.”

He must approach the limits of his control, because he pins her hand next to her head and then, after a couple of angles that can’t possible work, he just slips inside. The pressure is enormous as he pushes in, stretching and burning and inexorable, and Rey remembers it from before, the sharp feeling of something too big that was somehow meant to fit inside her. Months ago, too, it hadn’t felt quite comfortable until the second or third time, when he’d pumped her full of come.

Rey gasps until he comes to a full seat, and then holds on to him as he tells her _sorry, sorry, he didn’t mean to, he would stop, he really would, but he can’t quite_ …

He thrusts inside her once, twice. Once more, a little too forcefully, and then scrunches his eyes as if under great strain and pants into her mouth. “I missed this,” he tells her. “I missed you. I could only think of you.”

It should be impossible. They barely know each other. They were together for a matter of hours. And yet—“I missed you, too.”

It lasts less than a dozen thrusts. His mouth is by her ear as he tells her how beautiful she is, how he wishes she were naked, how he could fuck her every second of every hour of every day. Rey feels the spasms bloom and drive her mindless, and then clings onto his arms as her orgasm explodes inside her, wiping her mind clean. _Ben_ , she mouths against his hair. _Ben, Ben_ , but he is too busy coming himself, hiding the sounds of his pleasure into the skin of her throat.

He cleans her, after. He hold Rey’s hand as she tries to find her balance on weak legs, and kneels in front of her, using his coat to wipe the come beading her thighs as she tries to regain her breath; he kisses her cunt in a chastely obscene way, and then straightens the panties that he’d haphazardly shoved to the side with the same meticulous attention that Rey imagines he dedicates to blueprints and complex calculations.

Her stomach growls, and Ben’s mouth twitches as he stands.

“Have you eaten?’

Rey blushes. “I’m really—I’m always hungry. I’m fine, it’s just—”

“Can I buy you dinner?” It’s outstanding, that he’s able to look shy after what they’ve just done. What _he_ has done to her.

She points at a spot behind his shoulder. “Sure. You wanna get a pizza at that corner over there?”

He smiles. “Later, I mean. When— _if_ we ever get out.”

Rey presses her lips together, and nods.

A few seconds later he is kissing her gently, one hand cupping the back of her head, when the lights waver again. With a sudden jerk, the lift starts its descent.

Rey’s world begins to spin again.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [This is my Tumblr](https://ever-so-reylo.tumblr.com/), if you want to get in touch!
> 
> Please, take a look at this [amazing moodboard](http://sofondabooks.tumblr.com/post/179644559039/stuck-by-ever-so-reylo-modern-au-one-shot-rey) sofondabooks made, she is so amazing♡.  
> 


End file.
